


Mile High Club

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-07 21:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13443669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: Blame Sassyeggs





	Mile High Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SassyEggs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyEggs/gifts).



> Because this is entirely her fault.

“Another,” the big man a few stools down from her said to the bartender. He looked mean and rough, someone who would be more at home in a bar in Flea Bottom rather than the high class one at the airport, even in the suit he was wearing. His jacket was folded on the seat next to him, his sleeves rolled up to show off powerful forearms, and his top buttons undone, revealing a smattering of chest hair. His long hair was tied back into a tidy manbun. There were four empty glasses in front of him.

“Nervous flyer?” Sansa asked him. 

He looked over at her, glaring, and she saw the other side of his face. Skin grafts, she supposed, but they only lessened whatever had happened to him. The scars he had made him look even more fierce. His grey eyes, so clear despite the amount of alcohol he had consumed, pierced her. Normally, she would have cowered under that death glare.  _ Actually, I would normally not even strike up a conversation! _ she thought, but she had had two strong drinks already, and her worries were long gone. And really, they were  _ just _ scars. He was still a striking man. 

“Me, too.” His glare became a look of surprise, his eyes became softer and she took that as an invitation to move to the stool next to his. She could smell his aftershave, a subtle woodsy scent. It was nice. “I’m Sansa,” she said, offering him her hand.

“Sandor,” he replied, taking it and giving it a good solid shake.  _ Father would have been impressed with that handshake, _ she thought inanely. “How many have you had so far?” he asked, gesturing to the drink in her hand.

“Just two, but I’m not much of a drinker. Might get another one…” She looked at her nearly empty glass of whiskey. “It’s my first time flying. Like,  _ ever. _ I’m terrified that every single thing that could go wrong  _ will _ go wrong, just because it’s my first time.”

Sandor chuckled darkly as he drank the dark liquid the bartender handed him. “What’s your flight?”

“Oh, um…” She dug in her carryon bag and handed him her ticket. 

He glanced at it and handed it back to her. “Same as me.” 

“Oh! Would you like to sit together? It’s free seating, isn’t it?” She attributed her easy manner with him to the whiskey. She was not a particularly forward woman when it came to men.

He snorted. “You just don’t want to sit with a stranger now that you’ve found someone to cling to.” He sounded a little sad.

“Noooo… Well, ok, maybe a little, but you seem like an alright person. And wouldn’t it be more awkward to know each other and  _ not _ sit together.”

“You  _ don’t _ know me,” he pointed out, drinking from his glass. “I might be a murderer for all you know.”

“Well, then all the better to get to know you!” she said cheerfully. “You’ll be less likely to kill me if you see me as a person!”

He barked a laugh. “Watch a lot of crime drama then? Well, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you, but as it happens, I can’t.”

“Why not?” She was eyeing the skin of his throat, wondering if he tasted as nice as he smelled.  _ Sansa! Stop ogling the man! He’s your fellow flyer, for goodness sake. _ She did have a tendency to get a bit more amorous when she had been drinking. She had taught her roommate Lollys how to kiss after a few wine coolers and very little prompting.  _ And the man is pretty darn sexy, _ she thought, her previous chastisement long forgotten as her gaze dropped to examine the rest of him. He was finishing his drink, unaware of her examination.

“Because,” he said, wiping his mouth and making her wish she could have licked him clean like a cat, “I’m the pilot.”

“Oh…” Her head snapped up in shock. “But...you were just drinking!! And the flight leaves in an hour!”

He had stood up and was shrugging on his jacket, laughing. “Just soda, little flightless bird.” She looked at him in confusion. “Your shirt.”

She looked down at the phoenix shirt she was wearing. Arya had made it and given it to her as a joke, saying that if the plane crashed and burned, Sansa could potentially rise from her own ashes. All of her other clothing had been packed away, so she had thrown on the gag gift just so she wouldn’t have to walk around naked. She was fairly certain she’d miss her flight if she did that. She suddenly thought of Sandor the pilot walking around the airport in nothing but the hat. Her insides felt very warm, as did her cheeks.

“Oh,” was all she could manage.

“Want to see my cockpit?” he asked. She looked at him in horror, wondering how he could have possibly guessed her thoughts, and he snickered. “Do you not know what a cockpit is?” Still alarmed, her gaze slid down to the front of his pants and he burst out laughing. “I like how you think, but no. The cockpit is where the pilots sit and fly the plane.” He put his hat on, looking rather dapper in Sansa’s eyes. “I’ll let the flight attendants know to be on the lookout for you. See you on the plane, little bird.”

**********

After being assured by the bartender, Bronn, that her pilot had indeed only been drinking soda with a bit of grenadine, Sansa made her way to the terminal. The relief of finding someone she could talk to, and even better, someone who was in a position to keep them all alive, was...well,  _ a relief. _ If she died, at least her pilot was sexy. 

The flight attendant, a short, surly man named Ramsay, according to his nametag, took one look at her boarding pass and shoved her in one of the seats closest to the movie screen at the front of the plane. The buzz she felt from the whiskey had just begun to diminish. She was tempted to order one when the drink cart came around, but she would have time for that decision. The other passengers filed in and the plane slowly became a rambunctious noise center. 

“Excuse me!” 

Sansa looked up to see an extremely beautiful blonde, looking like she stepped out of the pages of a couture magazine, leaning down into the face of the surly flight attendant. 

“I refuse to be seated with these commoners,” she said, looking over the cabin, her eyes landing on Sansa. “I’ll buy the whole plane out if I have to.”

Ramsay rolled his eyes and looked like he was about to bite the woman’s head off, when the door to the cockpit opened and a redheaded man stepped out. He looked more like a fighter pilot than a commercial one, with his wild hair and the scar that crossed over his eye. “Oh, beg your pardon,” he said. He looked between the woman and Ramsay. “Is something amiss?” 

Ramsay growled. 

“I was just telling this  _ man,” _ she said, as if she didn't believe he deserved the title, “that I insist on sitting  _ alone. _ I'll buy all the the seats if I ne--”

“I apologize, ma’am,” he said, “but that would be something you would have needed to do when purchasing your initial ticket.”

“I am  _ not _ sitting with ruffians!”

“You are welcome to book another flight, or even charter a plane, but if you intend to be on  _ this _ plane, I'm afraid you will have to sit with these so called ‘ruffians’.” The red haired man smiled kindly at the irate woman. Sansa was more than a little impressed by him. She was known for her patience but even this woman might try it. 

“What is the fucking hold up?” Sansa heard from behind the redheaded pilot. The man she met in the bar, Sandor, came into view. If she thought he was huge before, he looked even bigger as he squeezed through the small door. The blonde’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head, they had gotten so large. Sandor caught sight of her, and looked hesitant until Sansa gave him a shy smile and a little wave. He relaxed and nodded to her, before turning to the woman causing the commotion. “Well?”

“I… uh…” The woman seemed to have lost her train of thought. 

“Sit down already,” Sandor growled. “I'd like to keep to our schedule.”

Sandor looked once more at Sansa, who gave him another smile, before disappearing back into the cockpit. 

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOOOO... of my unfinished works that I am posting, this is second to last. After I post the last one, I'll start focusing on what I've posted and hopefully be able to update everything on a somewhat regular basis. We'll see.


End file.
